Wild and Crazy Saturday Nights

Here I sit on Motzei Shabbos with the dishes piled high in the sink, the floors dirty and the living room/dining room trashed. I would also take a good guess that there are no clean uniform shirts for tomorrow. And, what am I doing? I've just been thrown yet another last minute book report to be typed up, you know the, Right-away-please-Imma!-It-was-due-last-week-and-if-I-don't-get-it-in-tomorrow-it-won't-get-into-the-yearbook type of report.


I'm a pretty mean mother when it comes to missing your deadlines. I'm usually the one yelling, "Well, it's totally your own fault, either type it yourself or get a bad grade!" But since we moved here and everything has to be typed in Hebrew, I have been a lot more merciful. 


Probably because:


a. When I sit here and try to type these things up I feel like I have an extremely severe learning disability. This may sound harsh, but those of you who have had to type anything significant in Hebrew know exactly what I mean. I type a mean 120 wpm regularly, and this is just painful. Poke, poke, pluck, pluck. I think it would put my kids over the edge. 


b. Roughly 2/3 of the convenient little Hebrew stickers on my keyboard have been carefully peeled off by a small person with red hair who likes to yell. A lot. "No like it stickers."


c. When I sit hunched over my laptop working hard at this task, I look so angry busy as I mutter under my breath that most people large and small leave me alone. I get some peace and quiet. 


d. I'm so incredibly proud of my kids coming this far; for G sakes, they can write a report in Hebrew, without help! The least I can do is spend a couple hours plucking out a half a page. 


Let's just hope there aren't any "ט"s. That tet has to be the most elusive letter in the Hebrew alphabet.